Into The Half Light
by Cael Fenton
Summary: What if QuiGon fell to the Dark Side on New Apsolon? AU vignette for JA 15: The Death of Hope.


**Author's note**: This is an AU, operating on the premise that after the events of JA 15, **The Death Of Hope**, Qui-Gon sought vengeance and consequentially fell to the Dark Side.

This story, in its original songfic form, was inspired by **Charmisjess**'s story **Kite**, though not in any way related to or based on it. Thanks, **Jess**, for introducing me to the four of the greatest musicians ever.

**Disclaimer**: Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi belong to LucasFilm. Balog, Bandomeer and New Apsolon belong to Dave Wolverton and Jude Watson, or maybe Scholastic.

**INTO THE HALF-LIGHT**

Former Jedi apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi stumbled wearily through the dusty streets. He had long since given up on trying to run. He was so tired, and he hurt all over. The invaders had set fire to the city, and behind him, the flames leapt from building to building, hot, cruel, blood-red fire, destroying. The Agricorps had evacuated the city hours ago, though it seemed that it had much, much longer to the injured, exhausted eighteen-year-old. He had been one of those who'd volunteered to stay behind to await rescue, because Bandomeer was a poor world, and there were so few ships, too few…

A heartbeat later, Obi-Wan cursed his lack of concentration as he tripped over a piece of debris lying in the middle of the street. He fell hard against the wall of a building, and as he looked at what had tripped him, he uttered a quiet whimper and turned his eyes away.

It was a human body, bloody and bruised, horribly mutilated.

As Obi-Wan leaned against the duracrete wall to catch his breath, the extent of his injuries dawned upon him. Probing them with the Force, he suspected at least a broken rib, and the dark purple bruises were obvious enough, as well as the dried blood—his own—that stuck his clothes to his skin and coated his brow. He sank to his knees as pain washed over him, and didn't try to suppress the bitter thought that perhaps he was running in vain.

He wasn't thinking like a Jedi. Jedi weren't cowards. But then again, he wasn't a Jedi anymore. He wasn't even sure if it had all been a fragile, passing dream. Huddled against the wall, Obi-Wan saw the flames rise as, with a dull thud, another building not far off collapsed. His mind took him back...back to that day on New Apsolon, when his life had fallen apart before his eyes. Qui-Gon had taken down every one of those battle droids so easily, so quickly, so efficiently. So coldly.

He'd tried to reach his Master through the Force, and what he felt made him recoil. The Darkness swirled around Qui-Gon, enveloping him like a blanket, penetrating his soul. And the cold, coming off him in waves, freezing the warmth in his heart, until he'd become that ruthless killer. The killer that made Obi-Wan ache inside when he remembered the man his Master had once been.

What made it so horrible, so terrifying, so painful for him to watch had been the sudden, sure knowledge that Qui-Gon welcomed the darkness. He drank the power that his hatred gave him in the same way a thirsty man would partake of water. And oh! the power that it gave him! Obi-Wan had never seen his Master move faster or more fluidly. But within the swift, easy movements lay a terrible ugliness, the true nature of the Dark Side. In that few moments of battle, in that cowing display of Dark power, Obi-Wan had learned more about the horror of the Dark than fifteen years of Master Yoda's lessons would ever have been able to teach him.

But it was not till later that he truly learned the awful finality of the most important lesson, that once a Jedi started down the path to the Dark Side, redemption was almost impossible.

Obi-Wan choked out a sob as the flames advanced. He remembered bursting into the room at the Absolute Museum where Balog had been hiding, only to find Qui-Gon's green blade burning a hole in Balog's neck…He'd stood shocked, horrified, transfixed at the doorway…The Darkness a furious storm that rose and crashed around his Master, _his_ Master, his Qui-Gon, the one he loved above any other, consumed by the evil that had frozen his soul and shattered his heart.

He'd known then that Qui-Gon was too far gone, too far to reach, across the eternity of grief and hatred and anger and pain in him, across the abyss of darkness…Too far gone to reach, too far gone to be a Jedi—sometimes the gift of prescience was such a mind-numbingly painful curse—and if Qui-Gon could not teach him, Obi-Wan saw little point in continuing his training. The one he loved beyond thought or reason had been claimed by, for a Jedi, a fate far worse than death. Obi-Wan appealed to the Council, asking them to send him to the Agricorps, asked them to banish his dreams…Half of him, the part he was most ashamed of, wished that they would deny him his request, the other just wanted to be a farmer on a distant Rim world, to forget the pain…Because what was the alternative? A voice in him had whispered the unthinkable: _suicide_…But he was a Jedi, even if not for long. He would not consider cowardice. The Council hadn't been pleased—Yoda, notably, had been visibly upset, but at that point, Obi-Wan hadn't given a Sith's in hell as to Yoda's feelings on that matter…or anyone else's feelings in any other matter. And in the end, they'd granted his request hadn't they?

The air he was drawing painfully into his weakened lungs heated up. The fire was getting closer. Smoke billowed only half a klick away, coming closer and closer…Suddenly and yet not unexpectedly, a coughing fit wracked him. Obi-Wan doubled over, shivering with cold and, at the same time, feeling like he was already burning in the fire, coughing, coughing, his thin shoulders shaking. Blood mixed with spittle flecked the floor, mingling with the caked blood of the sentients who had died on that spot before him, and the dust, the soot of war. He pressed a hand to his mouth, and when the coughs finally subsided, the hand came away bloody.

How fitting that he would finally meet the Force on Bandomeer. Bandomeer, where he had first begun to live, where his dreams had been awakened. For who could live ere Qui-Gon Jinn called them to life by name? On Bandomeer, he'd started to truly live. It was on this world that he'd first felt hope, and beauty.

And then, five years later, the place where the broken pieces of his life and of his heart and of his dreams would finally be laid to rest. Here was where it would all end. And here he was truly alone. He didn't know where the others had gone, but now he was going to die. Alone. Obi-Wan's strength crumbled and he began to cry, began to cry tears of loss and pain, of grief and loneliness and fear. The tears ran down his filthy, bloodied face, leaving behind sticky trails of wetness.

Obi-Wan hadn't been paying particularly close attention to his surroundings, but through the haze of tears and pain, he thought he'd heard a sound that wasn't the roar and crackle of the fire that was ravaging the city, or the muted thud of falling buildings. He looked up. If there was a chance, no matter how slight, that he wasn't going to burn to death alone…Obi-Wan strained his senses. He could no longer hear or see as only a Jedi could, but for what it was worth, he wanted so badly to see another living being emerge from the smoke to lie down and die next to him.

Then he saw him. A tall, cloaked shape, outrunning the flames, running towards him. And though Obi-Wan hadn't touched the Force in years, there was a familiar presence, like the long-forgotten scent of the Temple gardens…

Obi-Wan staggered to his feet. The man a few feet away from him looked terribly old, and tired. His greying hair just reached his shoulder. Whitish scars seamed his left cheek, and there was something so weary in his midnight blue eyes that frightened Obi-Wan. One sensed, merely by looking at him, that he had once been great. He was very tall, by far the tallest human Obi-Wan had ever laid eyes on, except for…except for…

_Qui-Gon._

Obi-Wan moaned, 'Master.'

Qui-Gon looked at him. Looked straight at him. The moment his gaze held Obi-Wan's was just that—only a passing moment. But for the two of them, it might have just as easily been forever. In that moment, though they hadn't seen each other in three long, lonely years, they reached for each other as though those three years had never happened. As though what had happened on New Apsolon had all been just a bad dream, and, waking, Master and Padawan each sought the other's presence for reassurance.

It was a special moment. In that one moment, the Force changed and their fates were bound together and sealed. Yet more importantly for Qui-Gon Jinn, former Jedi Master, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, who had been his apprentice long ago, in that moment, they became as two halves of one entity. Their bond, dormant through three years of so much anger and pain, inexplicably became perfect.

And what Obi-Wan sensed was no longer the Dark, but a great weariness, a desire for the Light, and, above all, love. He sighed and slid back against the wall. He no longer hoped for rescue for either himself or for Qui-Gon, but it didn't matter any more. His Master was safe—he would die in the Light.

Qui-Gon never took his eyes off Obi-Wan as he hurried forward to take the boy in his arms. He didn't say anything as he embraced the boy.

Obi-Wan moved his lips and Qui-Gon bent forward to catch his words. It cost him so much effort to speak—''m sorry—'

'Don't be, Obi-Wan. Don't be. And don't waste time on apologies—'

'…m-Master…'

Strange, Qui-Gon mused, how much a simple word could hurt, how deep it could pierce one's heart. 'Obi-Wan…!' he replied, tightening his arms around him and pressing a kiss to the boy's forehead. 'Ssh.'

'…love y-you…Masss…'

Qui-Gon found himself wishing desperately that he could cry. But the sweet release of tears did not come. He had spent all the tears somewhere between New Apsolon and Bandomeer, and there were none left…

'…Masterrr?…' Obi-Wan slurred.

Qui-Gon hesitated, and cursed himself for it. _Why can't I say the things that matter? For once…Let me say it for his sake, and not kriff up_…Because though the light was extinguished and the dream was faded and the life was bereft and the pulse was stilled—despite the death of hope—

'I love you too, my Obi-Wan. So much…'

He looked up. Qui-Gon could feel the heat of the fire searing his skin. It was painful. And he loved his Obi-Wan, loved him so much…There was only one thing to do.

'Sleep, Obi-Wan.'

Obi-Wan heard the overwhelming love and sadness in Qui-Gon's voice. His exhaustion came rushing back at him. There were so many things he wanted to ask Qui-Gon…He would ask him when he opened his eyes…

He never did.

Qui-Gon closed his own eyes and prepared for death. He had done the only thing he could do to save his Padawan the pain. After all, wasn't he already damned? It was foolish to hope in salvation for his stained soul. Better that Obi-Wan die in peace, secure in knowledge that Qui-Gon loved him, dead from a small nudge in the Force, dead by Qui-Gon's hand…and that the Master paid the price in his soul…


End file.
